


Lunacy Of My Lost Flesh

by emmaliza



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dark, M/M, Present Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-27
Updated: 2010-03-27
Packaged: 2017-10-08 09:03:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Dick lets it become about him then it becomes pointless; it bars forever the forgiveness Dick's pleading for, that Logan's offered a million times, that Dick cannot accept.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lunacy Of My Lost Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the poem "The Sun in Capricorn," by Joyce Mansour (which, btw, is one of my favorite poems ever.)

**LUNACY OF MY LOST FLESH**

 

Logan doesn't fully understand penance, how it works and buries into your soul, but he's bright enough to see that's what's in Dick's eyes when his friend is writhing on his lap. He knew when he invited Dick to stay with him that some sort of cataclysm was coming – Dick's face hadn't really hidden it very well, when he showed up – but he hadn't guessed what he'd be to it, or the literalness of the “coming” bit.

 

Dick never bothers taking him to the bed; Logan thinks that would be because that makes it something else, something other than whatever pain Dick _thinks_ he deserves. Instead; it's hard, fast, impatient movements on the couch, filling Logan with guilt and Dick with something undefinable. Logan's stomach squirms in time with his cock; knowing he's the blade Dick's cutting his skin with, but he _can't stop_ because if he does Dick's just going to go get a bigger knife. Logan's petrified of that and whatever that metaphor translates as in reality (down the street, not across the road?)

 

Dick has his lips pressed against Logan's neck, and his movements are a little clumsy because Logan knows he's not used to giving more than taking in bed (in a manner of speaking). But if Dick lets it become about him then it becomes pointless; it bars forever the forgiveness Dick's pleading for, that Logan's offered a million times, that Dick cannot accept. Logan tries to be pretty gentle with it, because he doesn't want to hurt Dick and he's never really liked it rough anyway, but Dick doesn't see the point in that either. What's the point in driving something sharp into your flesh if it doesn't hurt?

 

It puts an even sicker taste in his mouth when he thinks about what Dick's doing; offering himself up to be taken advantage of – just desperately trying to understand what his brother felt? Logan can't even think of himself that way; it hurts too much. He remembers what this world made of Cassidy – what Dick is paying for anyway – and he just aches when he thinks the Beav; the guy who played video games with him, helped burn down the pool with him, and rolled his eyes when Dick got his ass kicked with him; would have killed him that night on the roof if he'd had slightly better aim. He remembers that gun in Veronica's hand and the part of him that he _hates_ wishes she had just pulled the trigger. No more wondering what he could have said; why _not_ indeed.

 

He thinks of that night on the roof as Cassidy the Bad Guy; it doesn't feel real no matter how hard he tries. Then he looks at Dick and thinks of his old roommate; he never knew Meg Manning, but she and Cassidy were the reasons his best friend, one of the people he cared about the most in his whole life, is gone. That feels real, at least. He remembers the letter Duncan left, explaining why he had to keep Lilly II from the Mannings (because no-one remembered to protect Lilly I); _the path to God is paved with righteousness_ and Logan takes in Dick's state, and he knows he's going straight to hell. At least the Beav can keep him company.

 

Veronica's words echo in his ears; _he raped me_ infecting his mind and making it feel simple, then making how complicated it is hurt more. He hated Cassidy for that, sure, but when the boy went splat it still hurt. He read about the whole vampire syndrome thing, and he could only pray Dick would never know. Now he looks at the way Dick presses himself harder against him and doubts how much right he has to judge.

 

This time, they're not even bothering getting their clothes off; and Logan absorbs the odd sensation of Dick pulling on the denim of his jeans, bringing him closer. The air is filled with harsh, ragged, sobbing breaths and Dick's hands are under his shirt; Logan moans but it doesn't feel real. Dick is close now, cock straining against his jeans and his breath is getting harsher. He does sound close to tears, but Logan knows it won't happen. Logan wishes Dick would just break down again, like he did when he moved in or right after Dick Snr. came back. Break down so Logan had a blank slate to rebuild him from, without the flooding guilt that always arrives during this.

 

Dick wrenches his eyes shut and pulls Logan as closer, whispering: “Bite me.” He bares his neck and Logan's knows it's, at heart, begging – that should be a kink, but now it just feels sad and sick. He obeys and sinks his teeth into Dick's neck; closing his eyes too because he thinks if he sees the expression on Dick's face he might just throw up. He hates this; hates what he and Dick have turned into; hates how powerless he feels to stop it. He hopes wherever Cassidy is, the bastard is satisfied with how fucking broken he made them.

 

Then Dick is jerking and thrashing wildly; coming in his jeans. Logan swallows and dares to look again; and in Dick's eyes he sees the reflection of the wide-eyed expression Cassidy wore when he was staring down Veronica with a gun.


End file.
